


Promise

by Warped_Alignment



Series: Requested Fanfics [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family Bonding, Gen, Grief/Mourning, No Slash, Parent-Child Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:07:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29216922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warped_Alignment/pseuds/Warped_Alignment
Summary: Ron would never forget the promise he made.
Relationships: Molly Weasley & Ron Weasley
Series: Requested Fanfics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2203311
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Promise

Ron may not remember much about after the war and before the war, but he does remember this. There was a time, before things with Hermione were good, and he had a life of his own, things were painful. Everything hurt, and he spent days in his room, not coming out unless absolutely necessary.

Until one day, his mother brought him junk food. It was a day he made a promise, one day of many where he was sad, and he reminded himself it was ok. And a day where he realised how important his mother really was.

Ron was sat in his room, a blanket wrapped around him, tea burning his fingers. His stomach told him he was hungry, but he didn't have enough energy to comply. The war was over, and the fighting was done. He had every right to be happy.

He couldn't _sleep._

As soon as he closed his eyes, the faces of those he couldn't save appeared to him. Mad-Eye, Tonks, Remus, Sirius, even _Lavender_. He missed them all. And then there was Fred. Every night, he was kept awake in fear of seeing his face, the betrayal on it. He didn't want to see his face, which was ironic, since he saw it on George every day. It all _hurt,_ more than it had any right to. And he was angry. Angry with the war, for taking these people. Angry with Harry, because he was the one who ended it. Angry at the world, because nothing made sense. It was all so.. _unfair._

He couldn't cry, he was too exhausted. He couldn't sleep, it was out of the question. So he just sat there, tea slowly cooling, but not taking a sip, curled up in a ball, and watching his wall. 

A knock at the door came from behind him. He didn't jump, that'd take too much energy. Instead, he let them come in. They sat on the end of his bed, rustling things next to him. 

"I thought you might like some lunch." So that's why his stomach demanded food. He nodded, and waited for his mother to leave. Instead, she just sat there, and stared at the same point on the wall that he was. 

"I miss them too, you know." It was quiet, and subtle, and once she'd said it, she looked away, as if it were wrong, as if it were disgraceful. Her voice sounded broken, and lost, and just how he felt. _Helpless._ He didn't want to hear it, but he needed to. He turned around, facing her, and placed the tea on his bedside table. A mound of sweets, chocolates and crisps lay on his bed.

And beside them, his mother. She looked older now, gray streaks in her hair, trailing through it. She had circles under her eyes, like him, and they were red-rimmed from crying. Fresh tears shone in her cerulean eyes and he _saw_ her. He realised it wasn't just him who was hurting. He lost a brother, but she lost a _son._ And no-one should have to live with something like that. He let her sit next to him, and gave her some of his blanket. 

"Hungry?"

"Starving." 

She smiled sadly, and opened a packet of muggle crisps. He loved the flavour, but he didn't care about it today. It was hard and cold, and caught in his throat. This wasn't right, for them to live, and good people like _Fred_ were dead.

"It's wrong." he said. It wasn't a question, just a fact. This shouldn't be happening. He should be happy. He should be getting on with his life, and maybe Fred would want him to, but it felt bad to forget. 

"I know." she said, pulling an arm around him, "I keep thinking.." she broke off, tears welling in her eyes, "..I keep thinking I could've stopped it." They spilled over, and she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her oversized jumper. The broken tone of her voice brought tears to his own eyes, and he knew she couldn't have done anything, 

"I wish he were here." he said. It was simple, but it conveyed more to her than he ever could have imagined. She smiled sadly, and they embraced for a moment, chewing in silence, tears still running down their faces. 

"I miss how he'd prank us at dinner," Ron told his mum, "And I miss the way he'd grin when I'd do something naughty." his face was still filled with pain, and the tears still rolled, but he had a smile, thinking about his brother. 

"And how he insisted he was his brother, and the other way around." she added, with an equally painful smile on her face, "When he was a baby, he used to hide things," she told him, "And even when he grew up, whenever anything went missing, I'd check his room." Ron frowned, remembering all the times he'd caught her going through Fred's things, 

"I never knew that," he said, sniffing. She pulled out a bag of liquorice wands, and handed one to Ron, and chewing the end off of it. She shrugged, 

"He probably doesn't remember." then she stopped, "Didn't" she corrected herself, and another tear rolled down her cheek. 

"I don't want to forget him." Ron said suddenly, and she shook her head,

"No" she said firmly, "We mustn't."

"What happens if we do?" he asked her. She shook her head, with a smile, 

"I'll remind you."

"Promise?"

"Promise." she laughed. It wasn't happy, and it lasted for only a moment. But it was hopeful. They had both lost a lot, too much for people to lose, but they had also gained something. They had gained freedom, and each other. They had gained a lot of junk food, which they spent the next half hour getting stuffed on, and another half hour sleeping off. They had lost so much, but with each other's love, they felt like they might be able to get through it. His mother was still his mum, and he knew she hurt just as much as him, and realised he was not the only one who'd lost a lot in the war, and if he couldn't spend time with her, she'd lose another son. And he couldn't bear that. So they slept, better than they'd slept for weeks, mother and son (and a lot of sweet packets) in a kind silence, a quidditch blanket tucked around them. 

Ron would never forget the promise that made him trust again, made him move again, and made him open himself up again. He would never forget his mother, because he couldn't, and whenever they felt like they were forgetting, or they wanted to reminisce, there'd be crisps, and wands, and chocolate frogs, and jellybeans, just like that first night. And they'd talk. Others would join and leave, but it was always them. No matter what time, day or night, morning or evening, they'd always be there.

Because there was a promise, not an unbreakable vow, but stronger. A promise of love, and kindness, and remembering. And it was deeper than that. It helped to dull the pain, never making it leave, because it never would, and sometimes it opened the pain back up again. But that was ok.

Because that was the day Ron Weasley understood that he was loved. 


End file.
